


Oxytocin

by lugoji



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, at least up until moro which i haven't read yet, because i'm a sucker for tender bullshit, but everything is extremely vanilla, but i had one more little plot bunny that wanted to hop out, here's why i guess, ok look i know i just wrote a porn fic, once again i assert that frieza has a pussy and it is very nice, pre-broly, some mild cardiophilia, they're very relaxed with each other in that movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lugoji/pseuds/lugoji
Summary: It's a few weeks after the Tournament of Power. Sick of ruminating, Frieza invites his nemesis over for a personal experiment, and gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Frieza & Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Frieza/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Oxytocin

**Author's Note:**

> i have two fics on here and they're both frieza porn. what does this say about me as a person
> 
> this is a spiritual sequel to Image Training (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018976) but you don't gotta read that one if you don't wanna, live your life
> 
> 3/3/2021: rewrote a bunch of paragraphs to keep the POV consistent for Theme Reasons. goku is so much fun to write but this needed to be entirely in Frieza’s messed-up head so he could wildly misinterpret stuff lol. He’s a dramatic little bitch, I swear my writing isn’t always this stuffy  
> enjoy!

“So you’ve got a pussy?”

Son Goku, erstwhile savior of the universe, sat cross-legged upon a lavish throw pillow upon an even more lavish bedspread, probing porcelain thighs with curious fingers. Frieza sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This discussion had been inevitable since the very moment he’d dropped his proposition, hoping to relieve some of the tension sown between them during the Tournament of Power, but Goku was so enthusiastic about the idea that the Emperor’d figured he wouldn’t need to spend half an hour teaching a crash course on the details of his genital anatomy. Nevertheless, here they were: three glasses of wine deep, playing twenty questions.

“In so many words, yes. I suppose I do.”

“Neat. For some reason I always thought you’d just have nothin’ down there. Does that make you a lady, then? I never really wrapped my head around th’ whole gender thing, so—”

“No, Goku, it does not make me a lady.”

“Right, yeah. Whaddya want me t’do with it? I don’t want you getting mad and trying to blow me up or anything.” He rested his cheek on one hand, lazily kneading with the other. “You like to blow people up, you know. You really gotta stop doin’ that.”

Frieza rolled his eyes.

“Noted. You will use your hands for now. If you want to have your fun you will need to impress me.”

Goku nodded, clearly embarrassed by his social faux pas, and Frieza was just tipsy enough to think his lopsided grin charming; he was, as ever, eager to prove himself, and though his inexperience with Arcosian anatomy showed in the occasional hesitant pause he made up for it when he found what he was looking for and slipped a finger inside. Heat blossomed in Frieza’s groin. He leaned back and closed his eyes. 

“Is that— am I doing it right?” The Saiyan rubbed circles into Frieza's innards, making a small, fascinated sound when they started to lubricate, and joined his middle finger to his pointer, wiggling the two around together like worms inside an apple.

“Good enough. You may continue.” 

Frieza made a game out of watching his bedfellow’s face while they went about their business. There was a scrunching of the nose as he tried to figure out how everything connected, a puff from an upturned lip as he blew dark bangs out of his brow, a nearly imperceptible smirk as he found his way to a sensitive, spongy spot of flesh inside, stroking it painstakingly slow like some kind of professional tease. To think he could be so blasé, with their history! Frieza scowled, midway through coaxing his cock from its sheath.

”I do hope you realize, cheeky monkey, what a privilege this i—” 

_Oh._ That was his mouth.

“You taste fruity.” Goku pulled back and smacked his lips.

“For both our sakes, I will take that as a compliment.” 

Apparently the Saiyan had a wife back on Earth from whom he’d had to get permission to go on this little joyride— something or other about finally making good on his end of an ‘open relationship.’ Whatever the case, it was clear he had experience in the realm of servicing nooks and crannies. All he did was trail his tongue from Frieza's slit up to his shaft, but for an alarming few seconds the Emperor almost forgot where he was and who he was with, hips bucking against his command _,_ a strangled squawk wrestling its way from his throat. It had been nearly twenty years now since the two of them had fought on Namek, and the ferocity of it was burned forever into Frieza’s addled brain. To have the man who’d once made him _vomit blood_ happily making him wet enough to stain the sheets? To be touched like the precious thing he was by hands that could kill him where he lay?  
  
Frieza couldn’t see why he hadn’t thought of this sooner. He’d never been so turned on in his life.

But certain measures did have to be taken.

“Do not— _absolutely do not_ — even _think_ about biting me,” he growled. “I will destroy your planet myself if you do.”

“Sure you will,” said Goku. “B’sides, you’re all open n’ eager now. Isn't it time I got a turn?”

“You know I don’t like to play fair.” Frieza snaked his tail around the obvious tent in Goku’s pants, testing the waters with an experimental pump through the fabric. He made a guttural noise, craning forward. Another few strokes and he was as good as putty, jumping to meet the leathery appendage every time it drew near. Good. Allowing Son Goku into his bed was a major concession. Frieza would not be the only one to suffer for it.

“Take them off.” He pulled at Goku’s waistband. “Quickly.”

Goku did as instructed, removing his garment so that his erection sprung from underneath, thoroughly reddened and very mammalian. How did he walk around with his unmentionables just dangling about all day? At least he’d washed them before they started. Frieza’s tail encircled the shaft again, giving it another rough tug. He would have to be careful not to rip it off. 

With a delicate hand, he spread his lips, leaning back on his other elbow but watching his partner with practiced wariness. His thumb ran sweeping motions across the head of his member. He could not suppress the shiver that followed.

“I will permit you inside, if you wish.” 

His voice was buttery-smooth, tinged with lust and alcohol. Only a complete idiot would refuse. But Goku _was_ a complete idiot, so there was really no telling what would happen. It was a pleasant surprise when his face lit up and he aligned himself for entry, gauging their sizes and strengths.

“Oh, _yeah!_ You bet!”

Being penetrated wasn’t unfamiliar to Frieza (he much preferred to receive than to give, in all areas including this), but Goku was a little _too_ enthusiastic. There was no teasing. No tenderness. One second Frieza was empty, and the next he was full. Even with his lubricant smoothing the way he could only hope he wouldn’t bleed from the intrusion. Goku, meanwhile, was already having a wonderful time. His thrusting was less animated than his entrance, like he was trying not to break an expensive toy, but the way he moved was surprisingly nice, an easy back and forth, in and out and in again. At one point he dipped a finger in, too, hooking it around to fetch a thick string of slime, and rubbed at Frieza's distended arousal with thinly-veiled fascination. The Emperor’s tail flicked and coiled with pleasure, wandering to Goku’s disgusting, perfect ass, and—giving it a coy smack— forced him downward, so their chests pressed flush together. Their eyes met. It gave Goku pause.

“Did I—”

“Shut up. Keep going. And don’t get too comfortable. We are still enemies, I’ll have you know.”

“Says th’ pot to the kettle.”

“I said shut _up_.”

With a wily look, Goku leaned forward, and sucked at Frieza’s paper-white neck. He bit back a gasp. It was getting harder and harder to keep quiet, harder still when Goku wasn’t bothering to try, so he turned his noises into insults: “you oaf, you insect, you blithering fool!" Just the lightest glance against his cunt made him sigh and shudder like some kind of simpering virgin. At some point he’d wrapped his legs around Goku’s back, and when the Saiyan pulled out and rubbed their cocks together he bit his lip and pitched forward, eyes fluttering shut and clinging for dear life.

“You’ve been— _hh—_ you’ve been thinkin’ about this a while, haven’t you?” asked Goku, picking up the pace. “We’ve barely started an’ you’re squirming like you’re halfway there…”

“Please. It may be news to you, but you don’t occupy my every waking thought.”

“I’d be kinda worried if I did. But it’s okay if you _have_ thought about it. About me. You know…” He gave a pointed thrust. “ _In_ you. I don’t mind.”

“I could snap you in half _right now_ , if I so chose. Don’t push your luck.”

“Yuh-huh. Okay. You keep tellin’ yourself that _.”_

Frieza’s face turned an awkward shade of lavender. “How bold of you to assume I make a habit of wasting my time with frivolities.” He shifted under Goku’s chest, shaken by another thrust. “This was a whim. Nothing more.”

“Hah! You’re all flustered.”

“I am _not_ —” Frieza tripped on his words, animosity drowned under lust. “...Just _keep going_ …”

He did. They carried on like that for a while, a nice leisurely fuck, the both of them coiled together in a mess of limbs and kisses and clapping hips. Every now and then Goku nipped at pulse points in a way Frieza would have called methodical if not for the very Goku clumsiness of it: the fluttering artery in his neck, the aorta pumping in his belly, the dull throb in his wrists and his temples. One hand was wrapped around his waist, holding the both of them steady, but the other found purchase just under his left pectoral, pressing a thumb to feel the apex of his heart where it pushed outward with each quick beat. Only then did he notice it was pounding.

This strange ritual was a veiled threat, to be sure. Frieza wasn’t completely delusional; there was no star-crossed romance between them, and that was precisely from where the pleasure of their tryst arose. Goku had killed him before. They both knew he could do it again. Frieza figured he was likely lost in his own private fantasy, thinking fondly of the adrenaline high of battle. Perhaps eventually the Saiyan would revoke the privilege of his continued existence.

But he wouldn’t harm Frieza here—not unless the latter did something mortifyingly depraved. Unlike him Goku was a simple, good, upstanding man with a strong sense of justice and no stomach for wanton violence. He was also the most attentive lay Frieza’d ever had. 

Maybe too attentive. Something in Frieza lurched.

“Stop,” he said. It took Goku a second to register the command, and by that time Frieza had already pulled himself away, tail forming a convenient natural barrier. “Stop it right now. Just. Give me a minute, will you?”

“Okay,” said Goku, confused but ever-amenable. He moved back, sitting with his legs crossed, smiling with such earnest friendliness it made Frieza feel ill. “I’ll wait.”

Well, shit. Of course he would—what despicable naïveté. Frieza’s guts arranged themselves into a tightly-wound knot, but his face remained impassive. For gods’ sake, it was just _sex._ He’d _had_ sex before. The only thing it tended to inspire was vague and fleeting satisfaction— never anything like this. What was it that great oaf Yemma had called him when he’d formalized his resurrection? ‘Emotionally constipated?’ There might be some validity to that claim after all. 

What had changed? When had his hatred become so muddy?

Why couldn’t he stop wanting to be touched?

No. He refused to dwell on it. There was business to attend to, after all, and even Goku’s patience had its limits. It was high time to reassert control. Frieza took a moment to compose himself before scooting back over and placing a hand on his nemesis’s muscular abdomen, pushing him back into the pillows.

“Lie down,” he said. “I would like to be on top.” 

Goku grinned excitedly, and flopped down onto the soft sheets. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

That big stupid idiot and his big stupid mouth. Frieza felt bile simmering in his throat. Couldn’t he just go back to Hell? At least things made sense there. Instead he positioned himself over Goku’s waist, leaning slightly forward, holding his balance with one hand planted on firm mammal chest and using the other to open up wide enough for reentry. He was still drenched, and so overwhelmed that he almost slipped and fell— had to catch himself with his tail as he lowered himself down, but before long the emptiness was amended, and this time he got to set the pace. No more intimacy. Goku had been invited here for one reason, and that reason was to serve as Frieza’s horny little errand boy. The goal now was simple.

And, _oh,_ did that cock make for a good ride.

Their rodeo was awkward at first. Frieza was much smaller than his quarry, and it took some time for him to decide where to put his tail, but Goku seemed to like it when it wrapped around his neck and from there things were very easy to figure out. Up above him, Frieza could get a better view of his face, too. That was safer. No surprises. And the blush coloring his cheeks was such a lovely shade of pink...

Soon enough things reached a head. Goku was a humping, heaving mess, hands wriggling where they were pinned under Frieza’s prehensile feet, and Frieza was no better. His nails ripped holes into the duvet. He couldn’t swallow his moans. It was a struggle to maintain his rhythm, and he was mortifyingly loud, both in the wet slapping of his sex and the volume of his voice; but he was close, damn it, and shame never looked right on him, anyway. He hissed and groaned and huffed, fucking Goku with the sort of wild intensity that would kill a lesser man. It’d happened before.

“ _Hohhh boy,_ ” slurred Goku underneath him, “you feel so _goddamn good…”_

Just what he needed to hear.

Had it been five minutes or fifty? Frieza’s entire lower half was trembling. All he needed was a few more good ruts, and he would reach the point of no return. Here was where he would normally slow his pace, teeter on the edge for a while, steep himself in his heightened senses. This time, though? Screw that. He didn’t have the patience. He wrapped a hand around his member, sparks of energy leaping from his fingertips into tender, aching nerves, and— 

“Nngh— ahh— _ahhh—”_

There! Goku yelped under the explosive force of Frieza’s orgasm, impaled him one final, frantic time, and spilled hard. Then both of them collapsed into a heap. They were still latched together at the waist, all sweaty and sticky and utterly exhausted. A viscous slurry of cum and grool dripped down Frieza’s twitching thighs, pooling between their bellies. Insult to injury.

For a good few minutes, nobody spoke. The room was empty save the sound of heavy breathing. 

“I’m kinda surprised you let me do that,” said Goku, after a very long time. 

“Hm?”

“I mean, I came inside you. Thought you’d be upset about it. You all right?”

Frieza scoffed, eyes narrow. How very like his most hated foe, to ask after his well-being at a time like this. “If you think that meant something, you’re even more a fool than I gave you credit for. I just didn’t want to clean your blasted mess.”

Goku chuckled limply. “I get it. I’m not big on that part, either.”

He made to get up, sliding off of the Saiyan’s softening cock, and scowled at how the fruits of their labor gushed out onto the bed. Never mind saving the sheets; he’d need to run the laundry himself to save face. Seemed Frieza had another thing to add to his ever-growing list of failures.

“I’m going to wash up,” he said. “I expect you to be gone by the time I return.”

Goku yawned. “Sure. That was fun.” Then, after a second’s deliberation: “You’re real cute when you’re havin’ fun.”

Frieza blinked.

“Can we do this again sometime?”

“If the fancy strikes me, I’ll have someone contact you,” he said, and hurried to the neighboring bathroom, slamming the door behind him. As it closed, he caught a glimpse of Goku’s face, cherry-red and absolutely delighted. 

What had he just _done_?


End file.
